


you're a hobby (and i'm a killer)

by MinSeulgi



Series: Monsta X Bingo Autumn 2016 [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mafia/Gangs, Blood, Character Death, JooHyuk if you squint, M/M, Monsta X Bingo, Violence, idk how to tag this what am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7647340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinSeulgi/pseuds/MinSeulgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Hoseok won't give in. None of them will. After all, one doesn't simply capture Yoo Kihyun and live. It just doesn't work like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're a hobby (and i'm a killer)

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, this is part of [this](http://monstaxfanfic.tumblr.com/post/147089948979/monsta-x-sunny-summer-fic-bingo) Monsta X fic bingo thing!
> 
> Second, this is the longest single thing I've written in like...forever. Possibly literally 5 or so years. But pretty much forever. And much trepidation. Because slump. And first MX fic ever? And _reasons_. Anyway, unbeta-ed. Mostly because my usual betas are also participating in the fic bingo, and aside from teasing them on occasion these past few days, I wanted this to be a surprise (and partially because afraid to disappoint, let's be real here).
> 
> Final note. I listened to a lot of Nuvole Bianche and I Giorni (both by Ludovico Einaudi) for the past/memory scenes, Secret & Whisper’s the Great White Whale album and Teenage Fantasy album for the action/present scenes, and Eric Whitacre’s Sleep for the very last scene. Very effective. Not saying you have to do it. Just a note. I'm a musician. I always share the music love. Story title is from Secret & Whisper’s Famous For A Century.

_“Status report.”_

Hoseok slams his elbow back into a man’s throat, listening with satisfaction as they gurgle in pain. The sound of their body dropping to the floor is lost among the scuffle of noise as Hoseok moves to take on another moving body, but he feels the tendril of pride all the same. Kihyun would be proud, too.

Kihyun had once said Hoseok was not made for this life, that he was too gentle and kind underneath the prickly exterior he wore like armor. It had kept people from venturing close for quite some time, afraid of his tattoos and piercings, afraid of the way he smoke and drank and swore, afraid of being burned by the vengeful sun Shin Hoseok had become. For a time, Hoseok had thought the same.

_“Status report.”_

The Glock that Hoseok always carries weighs heavy in the holster at his side as Hoseok stares down a boy that looks like he belongs anywhere but here. The boy knows it, too, staring back with a pleading look in his eyes. Let me go, he seems to say, and Hoseok considers it for a moment. But then he sees the bulge at the boy’s side, the sweat that glistens on his brow in the dim of the hallway, the way his fingers twitch.

Hoseok pulls his Glock and doesn't bother to aim before he fires, trusting instinct and ruthless training to do him a favor just this once.

The boy goes down with a bullet in his throat, and Hoseok looks on dispassionately as blood spurts and quickly begins to pool. The hole is a little off center, and far from the clean headshot aiming would have given him, but it's better than a bullet between his eyes, and now the hallway is clear. Kihyun would be proud.

The remnants of the shot is loud in Hoseok’s ears, reverberating down the hallway, and Hoseok knows the others must hear it. They would need to be deaf not to. There is a buzzing in his ears, their voices as they check in and report that they're fine, that it wasn't them. Hoseok is the first to fire, the one to give away their mission, and now everyone in the stronghold knows that something is up. It will only get harder from here.

But Hoseok won't give in. None of them will.

After all, one doesn't simply capture Yoo Kihyun and live. It just doesn't work like that.

 _“Don’t do that to me ever again,”_ Changkyun snaps into Hoseok’s ear as soon as Hoseok reports back an all clear, sounding like a horrible cross between a wife, a mother, and a best friend.

“Yes, mother.” Hoseok tries to sound contrite. Really he does. But it’s hard for him to be much of anything at the moment except determined. Hoseok just wants Kihyun back, and he won’t apologize for that. But Changkyun won’t ask him to. None of them will. They know what this is costing Hoseok.

Changkyun sighs, but it’s more fond exasperation this time rather than scolding. _“Hyungwon will meet up with you soon.”_ At Hoseok’s quite noise of displeasure, Changkyun frowns. It’s an audible thing, and Hoseok frowns because of it. Making their youngest frown is never a good thing. But then again, with everything that’s been happening, they’re all done their share of frowning. Even Minhyuk, their resident sunspot, hasn’t been able to joke around. With Kihyun gone, things have just been...off.

_“We’re going to get him back, hyung.”_

“I know.”

 

***

 

When asked, Hoseok says he can’t remember when it started. All he remembers is a time before and a time after.

That’s not true, though. Hoseok remembers it all too well. The drinking, the drugs, the highs and lows that had come with it. And then, a lit candle in the dark, the angel among his devils. Kihyun came into his life with a clamor of sound and a whisper of better days.

His small hands had always been cool as they pulled sweat-soaked hair away from Hoseok’s face as he hung himself over a toilet bowl to be sick, cool when they held him upright whenever Hoseok had found himself too drunk to walk straight, much less stand. And yet his body had always been warm, a familiar and comforting heat that Kihyun pulled him into whenever Hoseok had the shakes during or following a crash, a warm body that Kihyun allowed him to curl into when the loneliness of being one small human in one too-large, too-loud city began to eat away at his sanity.

His words were soft, but edged in ice sharp enough to draw blood. His smile was sweet, but skirted razor blades. His voice was honey, always honey, rich and liquid gold. There was almost something more Kihyun was hiding, not just from Hoseok, but from the world at large, presented incongruously in these duplicities, and Hoseok longed to see it all. Somehow, long before Hoseok could even understand the concept of his feelings, he had loved Kihyun. For all of what he saw, what he didn’t, and more.

 

***

 

“He’s fine, you know.”

Hoseok ignores Hyungwon’s comment, just like he ignored Changkyun’s before that, and then Hyunwoo’s before that. And really, Hoseok should be grateful that they’re trying to remind Hoseok that Kihyun can handle himself in situations like that. But what they don’t understand is that Hoseok already knows that. Kihyun had come into his life with a whirlwind of changes, capable of withstanding and holding his own in a maelstrom of drugs and alcohol. He survived Hoseok at his worst. Of course he can survive this.

And yet somehow, the others make it sound like they’re trying to convince themselves, like they don’t believe it already. Changkyun has known Kihyun all of his life, Hyunwoo only a couple years less. Even Hyungwon, born into the life through another family, should know better.

All the reassurances do is nudge Hoseok a little bit closer to the edge.

Hoseok is spared having to answer as they turn down another hallway and run into another group. Hoseok doesn’t think. He just does. Before the other group can pull their weapons, he slams into them. Hyungwon is a split second behind him. Between the two of them, they decimate the group in a matter of moments.

Hyungwon at least uses his stiletto blade to put the men out of their misery. A slash here, a jab there. It’s quick. It’s easy. It’s bloody. It’s done.

But Hoseok could never be that good with a blade. It had taken months to be able to whip out his gun without flinging it off to the side. Kihyun had been in the middle of teaching Hoseok how to use a butterfly knife like an extension of his arm when he’d been taken. So instead, Hoseok snaps their necks, and he watches with cruel disinterest as they men suffocate and die.

Hyungwon watches, too, but says nothing.

In Hoseok’s ear, he can hear Changkyun murmuring something to the other team. Minhyuk answers back in a deceptively happy chirp. Closely following that is Jooheon, and then Hyunwoo. Their side of the building is clear. All enemies have been dispatched, all loose ends secured. No Kihyun. Hyungwon hums an acknowledgment into his mic, but Hoseok doesn’t hear it, nor does he hear Hyunwoo’s quick response. He just doesn’t care, not when he knows that Kihyun is ahead of him somewhere.

 

***

 

Once, before it all, Kihyun had mused to Hoseok that his hands, tiny and delicate that they appeared to be, were made to kill, covered in the blood of his enemies. And Hoseok had been so stupid, so, so stupid, and he’d lifted one hand and then the other, eyeing both with measured scrutiny before placing them back atop Kihyun’s chest.

“I don’t know a lot about palm reading,” Hoseok had said after a moment, expression pensive. And Kihyun, he’d taken the bait, even when it was clear on his features that he was reluctant to, and Hoseok had been happy to lead him in, happy to see the doubt in an expression that was always so sure. “I don’t see any killer lines.”

Kihyun had stared, stunned, then frowned. “What?”

Hoseok had lifted one of Kihyun’s hands again, making sure the other could see it before tracing his index finger along one of the lines of his palm. “This is your life line. It say you’re a placid and stable personality. In a crisis, you would deal well and stay calm, likely as the voice of reason.” Kihyun had made a noise. Hoseok had ignored it, jumping to another line. “This is your head line. It says you’re focused and a little self-centered.” Kihyun made another noise, and Hoseok smiled. “Your heart line says you’re a generous, sensual lover. Your sun line says you’re a hard worker, and that you’ll have luck in your life. And your fate line -- the fact that you even have one means that you’ll have an eventful life--”

At that, Kihyun had laughed. He’d laughed, and laughed, and laughed. His face had been dark, the color of beets, and he’d had trouble breathing for several minutes afterward. And when he’d finally gotten himself under some semblance of control, he’d looked at Hoseok and started laughing again.

Hoseok hadn’t understood then.

He does now.

 

***

 

Blood slides into Hoseok’s eye from the cut above his eyebrow, obscuring his vision and forcing him to pause long enough between shots to wipe it away. Another shot rings out, and Hoseok slides down further behind his makeshift shield. A table set on end is, unsurprisingly, not nearly as effective at stopping bullets and other debris as one might be led to believe. Movies are wrong. Very wrong.

A short distance away, Hyungwon is just as pinned as Hoseok is. The only difference between their two situations is that Hyungwon at least has a wall to block projectiles. But his gun has also jammed, and save for the knives in his belt and the possibility of flinging his gun like a deadly projectile of its own, Hyungwon is out of ammunition and out of luck. After all, even Hoseok knows not to bring a knife to a gunfight.

In his ear, Hoseok can hear Changkyun hissing commands. Behind that is a clattering, and Hoseok distantly recognizes it as fingers flying across keys. Hyunwoo’s voice breaks in. And then Jooheon’s. they’re talking about a rescue, an extraction, but that’s no good. It won’t work. They don’t have Kihyun yet, and Hoseok can’t leave without him. He won’t. Besides, they’re still on the other side of the building and have a maze of corridors to pass through. They’re at least five minutes out. Maybe ten. And with Hyungwon’s gun jammed and Hoseok with only one clip left...

The world snaps into sobering focus.

They’re going to die here, so close, and yet so fucking far from the goal that Hoseok can taste the bitter disappointment on his tongue.

But he’s not ready to die yet.

He’s not.

He hasn’t seen Kihyun in days.

And Kihyun fucking promised. They both promised. If they were every going to go out in a blaze of bullets and glory, they would go out together, Bonnie and Clyde style, in love and outlaws to the end. Jooheon had heard it when Hoseok had jokingly made the proposition, and he had gagged when Kihyun grinned and agreed without a second thought.

 _Gross_ , he’d called them. _Too sweet_ , he’d said before leaving in search of Minhyuk’s company.

Hoseok just wants to see Kihyun again.

He just wants Kihyun.

Hoseok shifts, pulling his last clip from his belt pouch. He doesn’t need to look at it to count how many bullets he has left, the numbers coming unbidden. A full magazine has fifteen rounds, more than enough to take out the opposition currently pinning Hyungwon and himself in their places. But he has to act fast, because it’s only a matter of time before--

It occurs to Hoseok that the rain of bullets have stopped. There is an eerie silence, and when Hoseok glances across the space to catch Hyungwon’s eye, the younger’s expression is closer to afraid than Hoseok has ever seen it before.

Hyungwon gives a shake of his head, because he can see it. Hoseok knows he can, but it’s this and die trying, or die like a dog on his back. And really, Hoseok has never been a fan of being belly up for anyone. Submission just doesn’t suit him.

Hoseok takes a breath, sliding the full magazine into place. The click echoes in the silence of the room.

The floor creaks.

The radio quiets.

Hoseok stands and fires.

He gets off five shots before one catches him in the chest.

 

***

 

Hoseok should have known something was wrong. Having known Kihyun for a little over a year now, he knew the other’s moods almost as well as his own. He’d seen Kihyun at his best and at his worst -- sick and hacking up a lung, screeching like a child over losing in a video game, and every other normal thing. But he’d also seen Kihyun wary and on edge, constantly looking around himself with a furtiveness that you see in abused children and starving animals.

It had made Hoseok sick to think about to begin with, the thought that Kihyun might have been one of those abused children, but it had only taken two times for Hoseok to notice a difference. Wary as Kihyun might seem, he didn’t flinch when touched or approached. He looked people in the eyes, talked as loud as he wanted, and didn’t eat like every meal might be his last. But there was a sharpness in his eyes, an attentiveness that Hoseok couldn’t even capture with his wildest stories. It was something reserved for these moments.

So when it happened, Hoseok noticed. And then Kihyun noticed. And shit went downhill from there pretty quickly.

Their not-date was cut short as soon as Kihyun realized that Hoseok had noticed something was up. He caught the waiter’s attention, filled a to-go container, paid, and pulled Hoseok out the door in a matter of minutes.

Hoseok didn’t even think to fight, stunned by Kihyun’s single-minded determination. He didn’t even know where they were going at that point. In fact, all Hoseok did know was that Kihyun had some semblance of an idea, if the way he took the streets and turns were to be considered, and that Kihyun was getting more and more anxious. It was almost like he was trying to avoid someone, or trying to shake them in back alley streets that Hoseok hadn't even known existed until that very moment. But Kihyun, who had previously claimed to be a country boy, knew these streets like the palm of his hand.

Hoseok only just saw the shape as it melted out of the shadows behind them. His reaction was instinctive.

“Kihyun, look out!”

But Kihyun had been ready for it, and he pushed Hoseok behind himself and into the brick of the building’s wall behind them. They could have run, if they knew, if they tried, but then Hoseok saw the gun the stranger held, and he was forced to stop short.

“Kihyun?”

But Kihyun didn’t look. Kihyun remained focused on the stranger with the gun.

“Kihyun, please.” Hoseok swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to ignore the sting of tears. “Don’t. It’s me he wants, right?” It had made sense. All the bad things Hoseok had done in his life before Kihyun stepped in to it, it would only make sense for someone to finally be fed up enough with his bullshit to come after him. With that in mind, Hoseok moved to step around Kihyun, to accept his fate and spare his friend. But Kihyun swung out an arm, pushing Hoseok back behind him and into the shelter of his body.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kihyun breathed, voice like iron and stance unrelenting. “He can’t have you.”

Hoseok made a quiet noise of hurt, of terror, afraid for Kihyun’s wellbeing more than his own, but he quieted when the stranger raised the gun and pointed it at them.

“Let us go and I’ll let you live.” Kihyun’s words sounding like some sort of wager, a deal that was meant to be fair. Hoseok couldn’t imagine Kihyun harming a fly, much less somehow disarming and killing a man with a gun. And yet... The edge to his voice was back, the one Hoseok associated with the phone calls Kihyun would sometimes get, the ones that left the boy shaking with anger and tense with unhappiness. His father, Kihyun had always claimed, the calls had been from his father, a man Hoseok had never met and had no desire to meet.

In those moments, Kihyun had always looked a little dangerous, like a bow strung to tight or a guitar string preparing to snap. But not like this. Never like this.

Between the span of one heartbeat and the next, and before Hoseok could even considering asking what Kihyun meant, there was a ringing in Hoseok’s ears, a shrill, painful ringing that eased out into an echo that reverberated down the alleyway. Something hot slid down his cheek, and when Hoseok lifted a hand to brush it away, his fingers came away stained red.

“Kihyun?”

Hoseok looked up, and found that Kihyun was no longer right in front of him. He’d stepped forward, his arm was out as if he’d thrown something. And the man...was gone.

Or not gone. The man with the gun was lying on the ground a meter or two away, gun out of hand and off to the side, and a blade protruding from his chest. Blood was already beginning to bloom around the entry point, puddling out around the body. And then Kihyun was on him, vicious and shaking as he pulled the blade free and slammed it home again, and again, and again.

By the time the sirens began to approach, they were gone, leaving nothing but a cooling body and a puddle of blood to show they had been there.

“I have a confession,” Kihyun admitted later as he picked at the blood that had crusted beneath his nails, voice weak with something that sounded oddly like relief and regret. Hoseok couldn’t even begin to fathom why such a combination would exist.

“He wasn’t here for you, Hoseok. He was here for me. He came after me because I’m my father’s son, and I always will be. I’m so sorry, Hoseok. I never meant to drag you into this.”

Hoseok wasn’t even sure what Kihyun meant by _this_ , but there were tears in Kihyun’s eyes, and Hoseok had never seen him cry before. Whatever _this_ was, it was serious, and Hoseok was more than a little terrified to finally discover what it took to make the almighty Yoo Kihyun cry.

 

***

 

“He’s here!”

Kihyun’s head snaps up as Hyunwoo pauses in the doorway, staring at the sight of their leader where he sits, roped to a chair that’s been bolted to the floor. The room is frigid, cold enough that Hyunwoo can see his breath as it fogs the air before him, and it makes him wish he’d brought his extra jacket because Kihyun’s shirt is in tatters, and his clothing clings to him like a second skin. He must be freezing, but all he does is stare at Hyunwoo now, waiting.

As Hyunwoo crosses the room, he pulls a knife from his belt, eyeing Kihyun with a little more scrutiny as he approaches.

Kihyun had originally been tied with tape -- a grave mistake and error in judgement, because one of the first things Kihyun had ever taught him was how to escape taped bonds. And he had escaped at some point. The tape from that original kidnapping still sits around his wrists. The bruise that sits on his cheek shows the blow that had knocked him flat long enough to tie him up again. The second time, they hadn’t taken chances, tying him at his shins and the middle of his forearms, and then around his chest. And from the way Kihyun breathes so shallowly from his nose, Hyunwoo would wager money on a bet that they’d wrapped and tied it too tight for Kihyun to get a good breath. Purposefully, at that.

There’s other injuries as well, more visible now that Hyunwoo’s eyes have begun to adjust to the gloom. One cut just above Kihyun’s brow, perhaps from being pistol whipped. The rivulets are dark and crusty, a day or two old, and they crack now as Kihyun shifts to follow his progress. Another sits on his other cheek just beyond the border of the tape on Kihyun’s mouth. It looks like a ring’s mark, like someone had punched him.

Hyunwoo’s first order of business is to remove the tape that sits across Kihyun’s lips, and the noise Kihyun makes as it pulls free is more than pained. His lips are cracked and bleeding, possibly from when he’d first been captured, possibly from the time following -- or even before -- the moment they pressed the tape to his lips. After all, it may muffle sound, but it can never silence it, and Kihyun has never been one to go down without a fight.

Kihyun takes a minute to breathe, takes several minutes to relax in the knowledge that his team had come for him. But then he’s falling back into the role he’s meant to play, the one he’d always been so good at. “You?”

Kihyun’s voice is raspy and weak, cracking with the effort it takes to speak, and Hyunwoo has to admire his tenacity. “Scratches, abrasions. Nothing major.” Hyunwoo offers a thin-lipped, not-quite smile. He’s familiar with the routine now, even if he’s not prepared for the answers he’ll need to give. “Might as well be uninjured.”

“Changkyun?”

“Home. Back at base. He was our eyes and ears.”

When Hyunwoo cuts through the final rope holding his chest to the back of the chair, Kihyun takes a deep breath that sends him into a coughing fit and has him doubling over. For once, he’s lucky to be strapped to the chair, and lucky the chair has been bolted down. When he can breathe again, Kihyun lifts his head. The questioning continues as Hyunwoo shifts to work on one of Kihyun’s arms.

“Jooheon?”

“Partially deaf in one ear, maybe both. Temporarily. There was an explosion. And someone might have fired a gun too close to one of his ears. Scrapes, abrasions.”

“Minhyuk?”

“Possible concussion from being slammed into the ground to avoid an explosion we were unprepared for.” There’s a weak smile in Hyunwoo’s voice, one that Kihyun mirrors. “Possible bruised or fractured ribs from impact. Scratches, abrasions. And guilt. He might have fired a gun right next to Jooheon’s ear.”

Kihyun’s smile widens, and Hyunwoo has just enough sense to finish sawing through the rope around Kihyun’s arm so that he can move to one of Kihyun’s shins. It gives him an excuse not to look up again.

“Hyungwon?”

“Bullet grazed his arm. He lost a little blood, but not much. He’s better off than any of the others, honestly.”

That stops Kihyun cold, and the niggling sense of unease he’d felt slams into him with a vengeance. He’s silent for a long moment, and Hyunwoo uses that time to saw through one shin’s restraints, and then the other. He’s aware of what it is Kihyun is struggling to ask, the name that sits like a prayer on the tip of his tongue, but until Kihyun actually finds the strength to voice what it is he wants, Hyunwoo won’t offer the information he wants.

Hyunwoo is midway through the final length of rope tied around Kihyun’s arm when it finally comes.

“Where is Hoseok?”

To his credit, Hyunwoo doesn’t flinch. But he doesn’t answer, either.

It’s answer enough, however, and Kihyun sags, folding almost like a rag doll.

For a moment, Hyunwoo doesn’t breathe.

For a moment, Kihyun doesn’t either.

Then, “Hurry up.”

Kihyun tugs at the rope as Hyunwoo saws at it, and in seconds, it pulls free with a snap, granting Kihyun freedom for the first time in days. He stands too fast, and for a moment he sways, legs uneasy beneath his weight. Hyunwoo remains close, just in case, but after a moment, Kihyun waves him away.

“Are any of the men left?”

Hyunwoo watches, reluctantly stepping back, expression carefully blank. “No. We killed them all to get here.”

Kihyun turns to glance around the interior of the room. In the dim light that streams in from the hallway behind them, Hyunwoo can see burns that dot along Kihyun’s arms like a strange and macabre tattoo. They’re new, a painful red with black ash around the edges. They’ll need to be cleaned, and only then will they scar.

He turns back to eyes the hallway with reluctance, his expression is just as blank as Hyunwoo’s, but his voice betrays him as it always has, icy and bitter. “Pity.”

When Kihyun steps out of the hallway connecting the two rooms, he has to squint and lift a hand to shade his eyes. The room is ablaze with light, every bulb burning bright, and it knocks Kihyun back a step, unprepared for the way it burns his eyes. It takes a moment to adjust, and a moment more to take in the scene.

The room is a massacre, bodies lying everywhere, left where they’d fallen and died. Kihyun looks down to find one to the right of the doorway, a Glock just out of reach and a bullet hole between his eyes. It’s just slightly off center, and Kihyun recognizes it as Hoseok’s handiwork.

Feet appear on the edge of Kihyun’s vision, two of them, and when he lifts his head, it’s to see Minhyuk and Jooheon eyeing him. There’s something off in Minhyuk’s expression, and he hesitates only for a moment before his arms sling around Kihyun’s shoulders. Jooheon offers a weak smile, but doesn’t offer a similar affection. Having gone through a similar trial, he knows better, and instead he gently pulls Minhyuk back after a moment. Kihyun is grateful, even if he doesn’t say as much.

Dimly, Kihyun can hear Hyunwoo calling the two, and he hears more than sees as Minhyuk and Jooheon leave, his eyes already searching the bodies for something familiar. He stops counting bodies at fifteen, and he’s eyed maybe a dozen more before he spies Hyungwon half-hidden behind an overturned table and hunched over a prone form, fingers pale against dark cloth as they tie together strips of dark fabric.

For a moment Kihyun is frozen, legs rooted to the cement beneath him. A name is born and dies on his lips, and as if that’s the spell to break him free, Kihyun begins to stumble forward. And the closer he staggers, the more he sees. Familiar boots -- Hoseok’s boots -- and the frayed hems of a pair of combat pants that Kihyun had been nagging Hoseok to stop wearing for months. There’s blood, too, so much of it, and Kihyun’s breath catches in his throat because he knows better than to hope when he can see the puddle around the body.

Kihyun sinks to his knees on the other side of where Hyungwon works, watching as pale, deft fingers tie a tourniquet to Hoseok’s leg. He wants to ask why, wants to ask why Hyungwon is doing when it’s a wasted effort, but he can’t even open his mouth, much less such in the breath needed for such a question.

“He took two shots to the chest, one to the side, and the other to the thigh,” Hyungwon says eventually, voice soft. When Kihyun looks to his hands, the backs are so, so pale, and the palms are red and slick with blood, and he feels the tears begin to sting at his eyes. Hoseok’s blood is on Hyungwon’s hands, just like it now stains Kihyun’s pants.

This is his fault. Allowing himself to be captured, allowing his captors to send the message of him in that chair, not being more firm in his order to warn the boys off. Hoseok is dead because of him, everyone but Changkyun injured because of him, Jooheon’s hearing possibly lost because of him--

“--did you tell him to?”

Kihyun’s head lifts, blinking away the tears that had begun to gather. His voice comes out raw with grief, and if the sheen to his eyes hadn’t been enough of a tell, his voice would be. “What?”

Hyungwon stares at Kihyun as if he’s grown a second head. For all Kihyun knows, maybe he has.

“Hyung,” Hyungwon repeats, voice low and words articulate, like he’s talking to a child. “Hoseok was wearing a vest. The first two bullets didn’t make it through the armor. If we hurry back to the base and I can get the other wounds sutured shut, a transfusion might be able to save his life.”

It takes a moment. Even with the clock ticking, it takes a moment for Kihyun to work his head around the concept.

He’s on his feet seconds later, swaying, but upright nonetheless.

“Hyunwoo, Minhyuk, Jooheon, time to move, let’s _go_!”

 

***

 

Kihyun takes the chair next to Hoseok’s bed, setting in as he had the day before, and the day before that. He’s a little woozy, dizzy from another blood drawing, but he’s proud, too, because that’s his blood in the bag next to Hoseok’s bed, his blood replacing what the bullet wounds had stolen from Hoseok during the taking of the building Kihyun had been held hostage in. They’re an almost perfect match, and Kihyun thinks it’s only fair that to repay Hoseok for risking his life to bring Kihyun home, he do the same.

The paperwork he’s supposed to be going over for a future heist sits in a folder in Kihyun’s lap, gifted to him just minutes ago from Hyunwoo, but Kihyun’s attention is elsewhere, and it’s hard for him to focus when Hoseok continues to lie so still in his bed.

The infoirmary door opens, and Kihyun turns just in time to see Minhyuk’s head peek inside. He waves, but doesn’t venture inside, possibly because that means staying longer, and he’s already headed somewhere else.

“How is he?” Minhyuk’s voice in uncharacteristically hushed, and Kihyun can’t help the smile that pulls to his lips.

“Better. The doctor said he’s recovering. He should wake up soon. Tomorrow, maybe the day after.”

Minhyuk smiles, a beaming, toothy thing, and Kihyun finds it impossible not to return it. “That’s great. It’s no fun picking on Honey without him.”

“I know,” Kihyun says, as he turns back to the bed and Hoseok’s sleeping figure. When he spies Hoseok’s hand lying there on the coverlet, the temptation is too much, and it’s with careful fingers that Kihyun reaches to take it. Hearing a soft sight from the doorway, Kihyun turns, eyeing Minhyuk with renewed interest. “Anything else?”

“Ahh, hyung, you’re so cute..”

Kihyun makes a face at him, but chooses not to comment. In the end, the face is enough to get his point across, and Minhyuk cackles to himself as he slips out and closes the door behind himself. It leaves Kihyun alone with Hoseok and his thoughts, but he doesn’t mind.

Kihyun sits like that for a moment longer, holding Hoseok’s cool hand in his own, then shifts so that he can lace their fingers together.

_“Your hands are so small compared to mine, Kwihyoni. But your fingers fit perfectly between them.”_

Kihyun closes his eyes, leaning over to press his lips to the back of Hoseok’s hand. He’d give anything to have Hoseok call him that again, to hear his voice and see him smile, to know that things will be okay. Sure, they’ll come in time, but that doesn’t stop Kihyun from wishing or wanting.

It’s as Kihyun is pulling away, reluctant to withdraw but determined to be the boss his job entails, when he feels a gentle squeeze around his hand. He thinks he imagines it at first, chalking it up to too much wishful thinking and some sort of displaced sensory download. But then it happens again, strong than before, and Kihyun is almost afraid to believe.

“Hoseok?” His voice is so weak and wavering with relief that he hardly recognizes it, but that hardly matters as Kihyun stares down at Hoseok, taking in the dark gleam of his eyes and the idle curve of his lips. This, he’s missed this.

“Hi, Kwihyoni.”

Kihyun laughs softly, disbelieving, then laughs again, pulling Hoseok’s hand up to his cheek even as he leans down to meet it. “I was just thinking about how I’d give anything to have you say that again.

Hoseok’s brows lift and drop again, and it’s meant to be funny, but he’s still so tired, so groggy from waking again, nothing is working quite right. But Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind. “Anything?”

“Anything,” Kihyun repeats, laughing now, body weak and shaking with relief. “Anything you want. But not while you’re in that bed.”

Hoseok has just enough energy back to groan, apparently, because he does, relaxing back into the pillow and putting on his best childish pout. “So you won’t sneak me anything good when Hyungwon decides that all I’m allowed to eat is jello?”

Kihyun pretends to think about it, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s so giddy with relief, he’d promise Hoseok the universe if he asked for it now. Ramen for dinner instead of jello seems like more than doable in his books. “Fine, fine. After Hyungwon checks you over.”

Hoseok manages a blinding grin, and Kihyun doesn’t understand where he’s pulling the energy from, but he doesn’t really care, either. As long as that smile is directed at him, that all that matters.

And when Hoseok squeezes his hand again, Kihyun doesn’t hesitate to squeeze back.


End file.
